It Isn't A Dream
by Gangsta Videl
Summary: [More drabble] You can't wake up from reality's nightmare, as Suzuka so kindly explains to Omi.


It Isn't A Dream  
  
A/N: Title yoinked from Herman's Hermits (There's A Kind Of Hush). It's more fun drabble-qualities, featuring Suzuka, Omi, and Ouka. Damn. And a world of advice for Hope, who reviewed Bloody December: go die. I don't care if you don't like fics that aren't yaoi. I never said mine was, you know. Anyone who knows me, or even bothers to click on the links I provide *in**my**bio*, knows that I *adore* Omi and Ouka's relationship. And I hate that you think Ouka's a bitch, too, beacuse she's not. So go ahead and die. Make my life a bit easier for me already...   
  
Disclaimer: Pshaw. Project Weiz and Takehito Koyasu all the way.   
  
*******  
  
The whole world was over. Her own world, anyway.  
  
The brilliant rose-hued eyes of Sakaki Suzuka closed, hiding the pain that seemed to seep out of her gaze. Her hands shuffled further up into the sleeves of her kimono, and she let out a long, deep sigh.  
  
Her daughter had been her whole world. Little Ouka, who'd always been so pretty and so proud... now dead at the age of sixteen. Suzuka hung her head. Sixteen! Sixteen-year olds were not supposed to die---especially not her little girl, her only little girl, the girl who was only supposed to be out with that boy she liked so much.  
  
Tears stung at her closed eyelids, and they fluttered open to allow the saline droplets their passage. It was no use trying to hide emotions now---it was far too late.  
  
The woman looked around the interior of her restaurant. It had been so empty earlier... So horribly calm and quiet, in that building, she'd nearly gone mad. So quiet! Ouka had never been that quiet, nevre for that long... and to see her now, pale and emotionless...   
  
It was tearing her up inside.  
  
There were people here now. Glancing around, she could pick out a few she recognised---only one or two, the ones who couldn't bear looking at the pictures or the casket any longer. If they thought losing a friend was hard---and they so did---than none of them could properly imagine the pain of losing a child.  
  
Suzuka sighed once more, and let herself view the photograph one of her daughter's friends has placed on top of that horrible, horrible wooden casket. The smile the child wore in it seemed painful, and she looked so happy there... Such a contrast it was, that picture, in comparison to every face in the room! Not only was she smiling, but she seemed so filled with life, and with color---unlike the morbid black sadness that filled the room this day.  
  
The woman tore her gaze away, more tears falling. Her child should not have died... Her child should not have been shot... Her child, her Ouka, should have lived.  
  
"Sakaki-san," voices said softly, and Suzuka forced herself to look in front of her. Two girls, both in black, knelt before her, in custom. Already on her knees, she waited, and listened as they spoke of their grievances for her and the rest of the family.  
  
And a joke that seemed. There was no 'rest of the family'---it had always been just she, herself, and little Ouka. Not any longer, though, and never again.   
  
It seemed far too sad. Not only had the girl been ripped away from life so cruelly, but she'd lost so much... A father she barely knew, a mother who missed her more each passing second, and friends who couldn't even look at her picture any longer.  
  
Suzuka's heart was shattering.  
  
The girls left. More came. The woman barely even acknowledged their exisistances, thinking only that she had been robbed, no, that the world itself had been robbed. A sixteen-year-old girl... Too young to die and far too young to have lived properly.  
  
She closed her eyes again and leaned back against the wall. In the dark, the sounds of sobbing and prayers only seemed to grow, but the dismal sadness seemed to fade, if only by a fraction. Was that what it was like, to have a hollow existance? There was no point in going on, not if everything she'd worked so hard for---if her one, cherished, beloved child---had to be taken away from her.  
  
What was the point, again... ?  
  
"Sakaki-san... "  
  
Another voice, and another faceless person. But there was a different quality, a different tone, in this one... Opening her eyes even halfway, Suzuka could see why.  
  
It was that boy.  
  
He looked distraught, nearly as much as she felt, and looked as if he might start shaking violently if someone even brushed against him. Was he truly grieving that harshly? Perhaps. He'd witnessed her daughter's death, maybe he was only rattled still---maybe he'd be rattled forever. It didn't make a lick of a difference to the entrepeneur---what she'd lost, no one else would ever know.   
  
His shoulder quaked, and his face nearly hit the floor as he fell forward, half-kneeling and half-pleading. "I... I... Ouka-chan... "  
  
Something inside of her twinged. Suzuka closed her eyes and tried to listen, tried to ignore the feeling that every fiber of her being was seperating.  
  
It wasn't working.  
  
"I never... I never thought... something like that could happen... to her.... " he whispered hoarsely, his voice thickening with raw emotion. Suzuka allowed her eyes to open slowly, that she might view the boy as he spoke.   
  
"She was always so strong... and tough, in a way... I never... " He wiped at his eyes. "I never thought... she'd... "  
  
Suzuka filled in the blanks, her own voice hard and cynical. "Die?"  
  
His head jerked up, tears apparent.   
  
"She wasn't supposed to get hurt," he whispered, eyes clouding over. "Ouka was supposed to live, and not... go out... that way... !"   
  
He shuddered quickly before he pulled his face into his knees. In surprise, Suzuka ralized why---he was crying too hard to carry on.  
  
Her gaze dropped to the floor, to the hem of her black kimono, and words failed. "You... You're hurting, aren't you?"  
  
The boy nodded and pawed at his teary eyes. His black sleeves---his whole sweater---was far too large for his small frame. It couldn't have been his---not unless all his clothing was sizes too large for him.   
  
"I miss her," he said softly, hugging his knees to his chest. "I never thought... I'd have to lose someone... again... "  
  
So he was hurting. But Suzuka had heard his statement clearly, and questioned it. "Again?"  
  
He nodded. "My... mother... when I was little... And both my older brothers... " He trembled slightly. "And now, Ouka-chan... "  
  
"I just want to wake up from this nightmare... "  
  
The same rose eyes, clouded and bland, followed the movements of his body as he hugged himself into a tighter ball, rocking slightly, tears still falling. A pathetic, pitiful sight, to say the least---and getting worse, by the looks of it. The poor boy... He had to have been in so much pain, the inconsistacy of it all, and nothing was getting easier for him.   
  
Her eyes closed, and her face returned to its emotionless state. So much like Ouka... like her daughter...   
  
"Tsukiyono, was it?" she asked, and the boy looked up. He nodded once, twice, too pathetic and sad to even speak again. But the Sakaki woman did not care, and looked over him, at the others in the room. "Ouka loved to talk about you. She only spoke highly of you. She... liked you... so much... "  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, and the woman nodded blandly. Her senses were starting to come to again, the pain was coming back, and it was all this boy's fault. And yet, and yet... Could she truly grow angry at one in so much hurt?  
  
"None of us will ever wake up from this," she stated coldly, and the boy stared at her. His eyes seemed far too large and childlike for someone his age. Everything about him, then, seemed wrong---except for, maybe, his pain. Maybe that was right. And maybe she was wrong for thinking that. Not that it mattered, of course---her existance was still hollow.  
  
"Do you know why that is, Tsukiyono?"  
  
With a shake of his head, the blond admitted that he didn't, and Suzuka closed her eyes. What a shame. He'd have been far better off lying. It was only going to hurt him more, in the end, if he was even a fraction as innocent and childlike in the 'real world' as he appeared to her now.   
  
Her eyes slanted and looked down at him, before closing her eyes and letting out a small breath of air.  
  
"You can't wake up from what isn't a dream."  
  
*******  
  
*******  
  
A/N: No yaoi. HA. Suck on that, beeyatches. The wank I got off my last fic provoked me. I think I want to go and write more yuri now, just to piss off all the rabid yaoi fangirls. And het, too. Because I loves me both the guys and the girlies.... ^^  
  
---Gangsta Videl 


End file.
